Carcass Island
The farthest inhabited island on the NW edge of the Falkland archipeligo — our next call. The day dawned gloomy, but the mist was not as thick as a peasouper — perhaps a consomme?
A French cruise ship pulled into the south bay and inflatables drove to the beach. Guides wearing antarctic red cagoules came ashore. We were in muted greys, Barbour sage green and Meindel boots. I think we blended into the landscape; they stood out.
Our landrover arrived and we returned the 10 miles to the settlement — a journey of over 1 hour as the Defender crawled over rock falls and then trundled across Diddle-dee.
The settlement had been sunny the afternoon before and the day was shaping up to be bright.
The Islander plane bounced down, disgorging among others, my colleague and friend of old, Norman Binnie, the surgical advisor to the islands, now off on a bit of R&R down at the Neck of Saunders.
Fog banks were reported out at the Jasons and Carcass was fog bound. Our FIGAS pilot peered out of his window, flew wavetop low and hugged the coast of the islands. I spotted the settlement on Carcass, but other details were blurred by the fog.
The plane banked around the top of the island and dropped onto the grass strip. Another safe landing and Rob (the owner of Carcass was there to greet us)
His sheep were to be shorn, and Daniel a fellow passenger was the man for the job.